Symmetry

He sits in the shadow of a light he's been begging for strength to consume; Choking on bipolar truths of his soul's aperture, wondering if there is a key to unlock its requiem, or if he'll be forever cast. Forced between the breaths of both worlds; Omitted from the presence of any luster, or spiritless flame. A man with eyes that seek, and a tongue bent over nervous teeth, that beg to be cleansed of sin's rot. To be this, here: In a world of decadent destruction. He feels he cannot, does not deserve the righteous clarity of purity's omniscience. It shines, through and stifles the purge. His essence contracts, pools together in a singularity, and he feels the flash as he becomes, for a moment, symmetry. Life/Death Perfection/Destruction Human/Corpse Angel/Demon Power/Void Darkness.. And he sleeps, for what he thought would be forever, and yet wakes in the arms of life with eyes that still seek, and a tongue no longer bent over hungry teeth; but willing to speak. -James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved